


The Stories We Tell

by Argenteus_Draco



Series: The Stories We Tell [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Durin Family, Everybody lives!, F/M, Gen, One Shot Collection, life in erebor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3530642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argenteus_Draco/pseuds/Argenteus_Draco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bilbo turns, surprised, and feels a wide smile break out over his face. Not just Kíli but Fíli too; older, like him, perhaps a little rounder about the middle, but it is unmistakably their playful smiles behind the longer, fuller beards. It is a more welcome reunion than he could ever have hoped to find, even in Rivendell." Part of a collection of short stories set after the Battle of Five Armies, exploring the fathers, brothers, leaders and kings that the Sons of Durin could have been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stories We Tell

The magic of the Elves is all encompassing. It revitalizes Bilbo, and though he no longer knows if he will make it back over the Misty Mountains, it does make him feel 50 years younger again. But this vision before him is too vivid and close to his memories to be the work of magic alone. Either it is real, Bilbo thinks, or else age has finally caught up with him, and he has passed out of the realm of the living and gone back to visit his old traveling companions.

“Kíli!” he calls, leaning over the balcony to try to get the attention of the dark-haired dwarf in the courtyard below, but without success. His voice hasn’t carried over the lilting flute music drifting in from another hall. He tries again. “Kíli!”

“Behind you, Master Burglar.”

He turns, surprised, and feels a wide smile break out over his face. Not just Kíli but Fíli too; older, like him, perhaps a little rounder about the middle, but it is unmistakably their playful smiles behind the longer, fuller beards. They come forward to embrace him. It is a more welcome reunion than he could ever have hoped to find, even in Rivendell.

“We did not expect to see you here for this council,” Fíli says, gripping his arm with a strength that Bilbo cannot return. “I’m glad to see that the years have been kind to you.”

“Well, you've faired a good deal better than I,” Bilbo replies; and then, turning to Kíli, “But who was that young thing I was yelling at down in the courtyard? I really thought it was you. Or you from sixty years ago.”

“My son,” Kíli tells him proudly. “Orodir.”

Bilbo sounds the name out with another smile. “So you married your Elf-maid, then?”

“Aye,” Kíli responds. “Haven’t been apart a day since. She’s here as well.”

“It’s why I was so eager to bring the lad along,” Fíli adds. “Imagine being alone with those two lovesick puppies for the entire journey.”

“Puppies?” Kíli feigns outrage. “If Tauriel is likened to any creature, it is a graceful wildcat.”

“See what I mean?” Fíli shakes his head sadly. “And you’d speak Elvish all the time, and leave me out.”

“You would have had Gimli and Gloin.”

"Aye, but we didn’t know we’d be meeting them on the road either. You understand, don’t you, Bilbo? I needed someone with sense to talk to.”

Kíli makes an exaggerated swing at his brother, which Fíli easily ducks, and Bilbo laughs again. He can imagine it. Frodo makes the same good natured complaints about Sam and Rosie Cotton.

“So Gloin is here, too?” he asks, once the brothers have stopped laughing long enough to be heard. “Just what sort of council is Lord Elrond cooking up?” “

We don’t know,” Fíli answers. “But if there’s a quest to be had, we’re ready. I think it’s high time for another adventure, don’t you?”

#

The impromptu party is as merry as the night that the Dwarves of Thorin’s company first gathered at Bag End, but after several hours it tires Bilbo to be around so many boisterous people. It takes several attempts to shake off Orodir, who seems especially interested in hearing him tell his version of the quest for Erebor and keeps urging him to try the different ales they have brought with them from the Lonely Mountain, but eventually he is able to slip away to a quiet corner, sit down with his pipe, close his eyes, and think what a lovely ending this will make for his book, Hobbits and Dwarves and Wizard all meeting again in the great Elven city. They have come full circle. Some of them, anyway.

Someone sits down beside him. With great effort, Bilbo opens his eyes to find Kíli leaning back against the wall, one foot tapping the ground in time to the rowdy singing now echoing forth from the fire-lit room beyond.

“Thorin wanted to come, you know,” he says suddenly. “Perhaps he would have, if he’d heard you would be here. But I think I understand how he feels.” He takes a long sip of his ale and turns his gaze back on the party. From what Bilbo can see and hear, Orodir is now leading the singing — he has a higher, clearer voice than the other Dwarves — and he has perched himself atop a pillar that Bilbo is certain held a ceramic vase earlier that day. Kíli smiles to himself and shakes his head.

“He’ll have a wicked headache in the morning,” he says. “He’s just a lad, doesn’t know his tolerance yet, and Fíli encourages him. But he’ll have to find another Elf if he needs healing, Tauriel won’t do it, not when it’s his own fault.” He chuckles and takes another sip of his drink. “To be young again, eh?”

“Now that is a toast I’ll drink to,” Bilbo replies, and then realizes that he doesn’t have anything to drink. Kíli passes him the flask and he takes a swig, coughing a little on the sweet, dark brew. He’s never favored these cold climate ales, and he tries not to make a face as he hands it back to Kíli, but he can see in the Dwarf’s smile that he isn’t hiding anything.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Kíli says. “Aged, sure, but not changed like we have. That’s good.” He pauses, considering his words. “Truthfully, Bilbo, I do not know if I am ready for another quest. Tauriel and I have talked about lingering here awhile, among her kin, if we can be useful, but otherwise I am happy to return home.” He gestures toward the party again. Orodir has finished his song to cheers and friendly laughter, and Merry and Pippin have gotten up to sing their own. Kíli smiles again. “If Fíli goes, I will follow him, of course, but I think it is time to leave the questing to the young beards. Let them have their own adventures.”

Bilbo nods thoughtfully. He hasn’t thought much about the possibility of another quest; he’s had enough of an adventure just getting back to Rivendell. Perhaps Frodo will want to go. It seems a shame to have a quest without a Hobbit as part of the company, for Frodo not to be able to learn, as he did, just how much a Halfling could offer. He would not be the same Hobbit that he is today if it had not been for the quest to Erebor, but he’s never considered if returning to the Shire shaped him just as much. But before he can become too lost in his memories, Kíli is laughing again, mostly, it seems, at himself.

“Still,” he says, getting to his feet and offering Bilbo a hand up, “no excuse to miss out on a good party. Come, Master Burglar, let us go tell our tales to the young ones, fill them with wanderlust for the journey ahead, whatever it may turn out to be. After all, that’s the point of a good story, isn’t it? To make someone want to have their own tale worth telling.”

“Is it?” Bilbo starts to wave off Kíli’s hand, then thinks better and accepts it. “I always thought they were just something that went along with fireworks on midsummer’s eve.”

“You have been in your Shire too long if you think that.” Kíli holds the door open for Bilbo, and as he passes, adds with a laugh, “It’s a good thing you came back to Rivendell. You might have forgotten who you are.”


End file.
